


carry your heart

by zenelly



Series: Leopika Week 2018 [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Canon typical violence?, Leopika Week 2018, M/M, demon!kurapika, magical!leorio, this is extremely soft magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: For Leopika Week 2018! Prompt: "Day 1- Magic""Where does the compass point?" Gon asks, curious, when he and Killua make it over. The little mage tries to get closer, peering at it, but Leorio takes full advantage of his superior height to keep it out of his reach."Right at the ass of the person I'm gonna kick next," Leorio says, snapping it shut.Which seems to be enough of an answer to Gon. “Neat.”





	carry your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hooray! It's Leopika week!! We'll see how much I manage to get done with all of this, but! It'll be a good time. This is extremely handwavy and kinda bullshit, but enjoyable bullshit.

Twilight has fallen and Kurapika has not yet come home.

Leorio levels a long look over the rim of his glasses at the swiftly encroaching night and huffs before standing, extinguishing his candle with a lick of his fingertips and pinch of his hand. He knew this would happen. He knew, and he warned Kurapika, and the stubborn bastard didn’t listen to him anyway because he never does. He knew. Leorio grabs his staff, a gnarled old oak branch wrapped with leather. One day, he swears, stomping back to his desk and ripping open one of the drawers, Kurapika won’t rush headfirst into danger. One day.

That day will almost certainly be Kurapika’s funeral, but Leorio’s here to make sure that doesn’t happen for as long as possible. A thankless task, but one he’s refused to give up.

Moving aside a few old pieces of paper, Leorio triggers the secret compartment in the drawer. Reaching in, he retrieves an old looking compass, swiping dust away from it with his thumb with a scowl. Of course he couldn’t just never use this. Paranoia is what made him make it in the first place.

And it’s not like Kurapika is even going to be _grateful_ that it came in handy because the entire time it took Leorio to make it, he was bitching about the blood magic.

Fucking whatever. Shows him right.

Leorio flips it open and sighs as he stomps his way to the front room. The point trembles, shifting as he moves, unerringly attempting to lead him towards the eastern side of the house, down the road towards downtown. Great. Pulling a phone out of his pocket (and trying to not fumble too much between the staff and compass and phone), he dials a number by rote habit, pacing a new worn track into the hallway before there’s a tinny click and Gon’s voice coming over the speaker. Leorio cuts him off before he can say too much.

“Hey, can you and the battery charger meet me here in like… Five minutes?”

Back up is going to be essential for this. It’s not that he thinks it’ll be easy. He knows the kinds of enemies Kurapika tends to attract. Leorio is no fool. He just happens to be in love with one. Gon and Killua waste no time getting to him. Leorio’s just finished up with his preparations and is locking the door behind him

"Is there a reason you called us up, old man?" Killua pushes himself off the wall, electricity crackling between his fingertips. "Moral support?"

Leorio shrugs. “Something like that. If nothing else, you can watch the doors for me.” He holds the compass up, checking its heading, the quivering tip of the needle straight and true.

"Where does the compass point?" Gon asks, curious, when he and Killua make it over. The little mage tries to get closer, peering at it, but Leorio takes full advantage of his superior height to keep it out of his reach.

"Right at the ass of the person I'm gonna kick next," Leorio says, snapping it shut. 

Which seems to be enough of an answer to Gon. “Neat.”

* * *

 

Leorio leads them forward, cursing the straight-arrow compass as he skirts yet another building and its fence line. He’s not about to get in trouble for trespassing. Not when he’s about to get in trouble for far worse. But eventually, after several twists and turns, the compass point trembles and locks onto one building in particular. Leorio looks up, taking note of his surroundings fully since he left his apartment and sighs. A dilapidated warehouse. Of course. Because no one in this day and age has any sense of style or innovation.

“How much do you want to bet that someone in here just watched a bunch of spy movies and figured this was the best spot?” he asks over his shoulder

KIllua snorts. “I don’t take losing bets.”

“You get the inside, we make a distraction out here?” Gon rolls his shoulder, and Leorio can see the faint glow of kinetic build-up, Gon’s specialty, around his arm, throwing him into sharp relief.

Setting the point of his staff on the ground, Leorio pockets the watch. He lets out a quiet sigh, draws himself up to his full height. A moment of quiet there, unbroken by the buzz of the street lights overhead and the distant sound of cars as Leorio gathers himself into his center, feeling how he connects to the earth and the air around him. He opens his eyes.

And speaks a word that blows the doors off their hinges.

Leorio winces. Whoops. Okay, maybe a bit too much gusto in that one. Leorio hadn’t _meant_ to take out a solid two feet of the warehouse wall on either side of the door, but it’s possible that Leorio is a little angrier than he’s letting on. Ah shit. All subtlety is out the window. Still, he strides forward without waiting for the dust to settle.

“So. Are you going to give me back my bondmate, or do I gotta kick everyone’s ass here?” Leorio yells, climbing on top of the fallen door.

There’s some confused scrambling, cries and coughing in the dust, but this close, Leorio doesn’t need the compass to guide him, just the steady tug of his heart in his chest. Kurapika’s here. He just has to-

Duck a fireball, first. Slam a shield up, second, to redirect the sharp rap of bullets away from him. Scowling, Leorio reaches and _twists_ until space gives way, opening a yawning tear. He punches through until he makes contact, hearing the satisfying crash from the other side of the warehouse. Nice.

Okay, now that the dust is starting to settle, he can get a better view of this. Probably twenty or so people, which would be kind of overkill if Kurapika was anyone except who he was, scattered around the wide open area. No sign of Kurapika himself, but there are a couple doors that seem promising. Leorio draws a deep breath.

A man lunges for Leorio. Damn, okay. No talking then. A bolt of lightning taps between them, leaving behind the scent of ozone and charred meat, and Killua calls over his shoulder, “Are you gonna just stand there or are you gonna _do_ something, old man?”

“Oh fuck off, I was looking around! Can’t you guys take care of them? I have more important shit to do” Damn brat. Leorio cracks his knuckles, picking out a group of them that are clustered around one door. Might as well start there.

“Then go do it!”

Taking out the group in front of the door is a matter of a quickly cast earthly binding spell and a few slashes from the knife sheathed in the small of his back. Whoever these goons are, they never bothered locking all the doors, so Leorio slips through quickly. His stride lengths as he hurries through. Here, somewhere. Nearby. Leorio can feel this much beneath his breastbone, can feel his bond with Kurapika pulling taut, always more powerful the closer they are.

He stops when he hears the indistinct sound of people talking. Carefully, barely daring to breathe, Leorio scoots closer.

“See, I told you he’d come get me,” comes Kurapika’s voice, a little disoriented around the edges. Leorio bites back the sharp swell of relief and worry and scoots closer, making as little sound as possible. “I warned you. I did. Your fault now when he punches you in the face.”

“He’s not going to-“ starts another person. Fear shivers in every syllable.

A wide grin cuts across Leorio’s face. He takes another deep breath and takes the chance to close his eyes. This is always easier when he can see where he wants the other end of the portal to end up, so Leorio has to be careful. He doesn’t actually want to punch Kurapika instead. Gathering himself, he focuses on the source of the voice, twisting reality and-

- _connects_ with a wet sound of impact.

There’s silence.

Good enough, Leorio figures and tries the door, pleasantly surprised when it opens.

Tied to a chair in the center of the room by what looks like iron chains, Kurapika seems a little worse for wear. There’s blood smeared on his face but no visible wounds. Whatever they’re using to keep him here isn’t inhibiting all of his powers, then. That’s good. Slightly more alarming are the horns protruding from his forehead, and the way his skin is shifting from its typical smooth brown to a crimson red.

Kurapika’s head lolls to the side and he squints blearily at Leorio, eyes red and blazing.

“You’re late,” he says.

“I am _not._ ” Honestly, Leorio must have gotten hit on the head at some point during all the ruckus because all he feels is a swell of love and relief large enough to drown him. He kneels by the chair, clocking the unconscious form of the guy Leorio must have punched earlier as he makes quick work of the manacles. Little sparks of energy buzz against his hands, and Leorio whistles under his breath. “Are these blessed? No wonder you couldn’t get free.”

Kurapika snorts as the first pair of cuffs drop, revealing the bright red skin underneath. Leorio rubs his wrists, watching the color shrink to be replaced by the chafing he expects, but now that he’s here and Kurapika is free, his skin is starting to fade back to its typical human shade. A quick look confirms that Kurapika isn’t red anywhere else that isn’t also actually blood, so he’ll call it good for now.

“Can’t even let you get groceries on your own anymore,” Leorio says as he gathers Kurapika up. Arm here, under the knees, and _up_ , and Leorio has Kurapika cradled in his arms. He steps over the body and out the door.

Kurapika pats him on the chest. “I got the groceries just fine last week. Unfair association. I would’ve been fine this week too if they hadn’t had the gas.”

Leorio cocks an eyebrow. “Gas?”

“Nonmagical. Knock out. Still a little woozy, or I’d have been home before you thought to worry. Ah,” and Kurapika loses the thread and the English language, slipping into Infernal with barely a breath. Leorio winces at the way the language scrapes at his brain but listens anyway, not understanding a single word outside of his name.

It’s sweet, really. Or it’s supposed to be, even if the language is painful, because Kurapika doesn’t normally let himself slip like that. Leorio shoulders the door to the main area open as Kurapika says something particularly filthy, just in time for Killua to hear it and blanch.

“His horns are still visible,” Killua warns with a roll of his eyes that definitely doesn’t cover a cautious glance outside. “If you don’t stop him soon, he’s going to turn red and that’ll cause a big stink at the Bureau.”

Leorio smooths his thumb across the curve of Kurapika’s shoulder and shrugs. “I know. But we won’t be out long. I just need to get him home.”

“And then keep him there for once.”

“For a lightning spirit, you’re awfully nervous,” Leorio says instead of answering the question. The Bureau can suck his dick. “Where’s your ground?”

Killua hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Flipping the foundation into people’s faces. You told us to cause a distraction.”

“Yeah, a distraction, not property damage.” Leorio wants to run his hand down his face, sighing at the impossibility of these idiots, but has to settle for shifting Kurapika in his arms and garnering another mumble of vaguely positive sounding Infernal. If a language that makes people’s ears bleed can ever really be called “positive sounding.” He shakes his head. Gon’s just showing his worry in a way. “Well, let’s go collect him and then let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“Who even _says_ shit like that,” Killua bitches, but he flickers and vanishes with a snap of air and the sharp smell of ozone.

“You do,” Kurapika says. He presses his lips to the side of Leorio’s throat. “You always say that stupidest things.”

Leorio chuckles, kissing Kurapika’s hair. “Oh? What stupid things do I say, hm?”

“That you love me, and that you think we’re getting out of here without you letting me fight.”

“You need to _rest_ , Kurapika.” Leorio steps over the debris in the main room, ignoring the fight all around them. “You can’t actually just survive off the souls of the unjust, you know.”

“Put me down and watch me.”

“We are going _home_ ,” Leorio says even as he stops and lets Kurapika take his unsteady steps towards a hapless goon. Okay, so it’ll be a bit longer then, and the Bureau is absolutely going to get on Leorio’s ass about this, but his heart is home again, safe within reach, red-eyed and about to take his pent up ire out on the poor sap in front of him, and really, that’s all Leorio wants.


End file.
